


Geschwister (siblings)

by catnipquills



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Comfort, Ficlets, Hurt, M/M, Mostly Prussia-Centric, prompts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-05
Updated: 2015-07-14
Packaged: 2017-12-10 11:58:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/785813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catnipquills/pseuds/catnipquills
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hetalia Oneshots. Mostly Prussia-centric.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sprache (language)

**Author's Note:**

> Edit 2016: I just went back through this, making a few minor edits when I realized: I never pointed out that to me the characters of Ludwig and Gilbert were always only "sibling-like" in the sense that they were close friends like brothers often are, but they never were blood-related to me. (Which makes sense in canon if I remember the story correctly.) 
> 
> I've never had anyone write to me about this pairing being problematic, but I feel the need to point out that they only work for me with the background of this being no incest, because they aren't really brothers. I went as far as to consider renaming this fic, but as I didn't mean anything but choosing that name I won't draw any more attention to it by changing it. That said, remember that this is an Anime about personifications of countries. Let's not go there. It was never my intention with this work. 
> 
> Enjoy reading if you find this after this comment is added.
> 
>  
> 
> Edit later in 2016: I might add more ficlets.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote some of these ages ago.

It was a quiet Sunday morning. The warmth of the approaching day seeped in through all these tiny cracks. Ludwig shuffled out of bed and down the stairs without bothering to keep the peaceful silence intact. It was past 10 o’clock anyway and his brother needn't sleep through the whole day. Suddenly, guilt made him slow his steps anyway. He slipped into the kitchen. It was this weird kind of guilt. The one which he couldn't really explain. Except that Ludwig could. The sunlight shone softly trough the half closed blinds and drew pretty little patterns on the floor. In a near automatic movement, Ludwig went directly for the cupboard on his right in order to grab a coffee mug.

“Morgen,” mumbled a gruff voice from behind him. Ludwig startled and turned around to face his brother sitting at the kitchen table and regarding him with an expression that he couldn't decipher. He hadn't even realized the albino was there. Even though Gilbert smiled faintly after another moment, a wave of guilt clawed at him. The other looked oddly out of place in the kitchen. Ludwig noticed that Gilbert was chewing on a plain slice of bread.

“Warum bist du um die Zeit schon wach?” the younger asked after a moment, his normal thought process only coming back slowly.

“Couldn't sleep,” Gilbert answered, switching back to English and obviously uncomfortable about it. Ludwig fought the urge to flinch. It must have been years since his brother had spoken more than a few stolen syllables in his own tongue. Tiny words tapped into every little crack of a wall you couldn't simply walk around. Russia wouldn't let him speak it, Ludwig had learned. _(A pig language)_ The younger used to try and fathom what it must have been like, found his chest constricting immediately. But that train of thought always was a selfish one, as his heart screamed at how lonely he had been without the other. The very thought about all this time without Gilbert still felt so wrong. Wrong. Wrong. _Wrong._

“Schau nicht so.” His smile was fake, his voice rough in remembrance of the words. Ludwig realized that he had been starring and lowered his eyes. “Are you alright?”  
Gilbert stuffed another little crumb of bread in his mouth.

“Sure.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations
> 
> 'Morgen - Morning  
> Warum bist du um die Zeit schon wach? - Why are you up this early in the morning?  
> Schau nicht so - Don't look like that.


	2. Kugeln (bullets)

Three bullets to the heart.

But alive. Barley so, but very alive.

 

The war was over now, but it was far from done. Four of the nation’s which had suffered terrible loses and pain beyond any words, sat silently in the simple room at the end of a long corridor of a house that had seemed so indestructible just hours ago. Well, not so much now. A fifth person was laying on filthy sheets.

His breathing was so shallow, it almost seemed he didn't breathe at all. Lying on that thing, every last part of his body bandaged up and bound down – as if he could move – to the cot at the corner of the room. The figure shook in pain. Berlin was burning. It was burning still and had the albino first screaming, then clenching his teeth in pain and then not reacting to anything anymore. “He’ll die.” Ivan stated coldly without sparing a glance to him. It seemed the words made it so much more real.

It wasn't that they felt bad for him – France, England and America – they didn't feel the pity. After all he had done – but did he really? Wasn't he just a tool like all the rest of them? And- “No.”, France said suddenly. All heads turned to him. Ivan and Francis locked eyes. “He’s too stubborn for that.” And see – if there are only around five dozen* of your kind in existence – death and life of these few people came to be much more important. After all, this wasn't about the last ten years. This was about half a – immortal – life and there lies all the difference.

“We can’t really do a thing can we?”, it was England's – Arthur's turn to speak. He looked at the Prussian lying in the corner and took in the restraints, the blindfold and all the bloodstained bandages. (The places where blood seemed to drip from his body) America seemed to ramble something that didn't get through to Ivan. He was still too young.

There was a lot of noise outside suddenly. It needed saying for all of them to understand. America fell silent. They were going to dissolve him. Once and for all. What was one to say about that? “Nah”, commented Russia belatedly on England’s question. He looked across the room for a fleeting second and stood up to leave.

 

***

 

An hour later, when all was said and done – poor Ludwig torn between screaming and just biting on his tongue – Ivan stepped back into that very room. Gilbert was still lying there, but something was different. The wounds on his body seemed not as fresh now, his muscles less tense. The restraints had given a little; his hands had room to move. His hands were folded over his chest. In the silence of the room, Gilbert murmured low German words, but truth is they've known each other long enough for Ivan to pick them up quite easily.

_Vergib uns unsere Schuld, wie auch wir vergeben unseren Schuldigern._

Ivan chuckled. He pulled the last straps lose and ripped the ones pinning him down still. When Gilbert showed no sign of movement, Ivan touched his shoulder. Blood red eyes snapped open. Their gazes met and Ivan had expected every last thing, but not this kind of fire in it. “You’re going to live with me now.”, he told him steadily, his lips stretching gradually to a smile. Gilbert stared silently at him, before his eyes dropped to scan the room and then his own hands. He reached up to his collar and with a quick movement ripped a fine silver necklace. When the albino stood, a pendant feel to the floor.

And Not-anymore-Prussia went quiet willingly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * actually there are roughly 200 states or state-like-territories on earth, but considering that we have hardly seen half of them in Hetalia I was being a little generous.
> 
> Vergib uns unsere Schuld, wie auch wir vergeben unseren Schuldigern - Forgive us our debts, as we also have forgiven our debtors.


	3. Zeit (time)

There were people over people, crowding the streets. They were flooding forward like one big mass of matter, only they were not, they were individuals hidden in a big black-brown-white-fading balloon of noise. Maybe they’d forgotten and didn't notice anymore. Gilbert told himself he couldn't care less. Except that was not true, not at all. That was his people, and his children and while not good, he reckoned they were alright. Isn't that what he should strive to achieve? But when had “alright” become the measure of things? 

In the old times, back in the last centuries, there were emotions cooked up so high, that Gilbert, in his way of feeling them seeping into his own body, would dance on a thin line between euphoria and hysteria. There might have been a few bloody wars and some broken bones, but time was rushing forward, life was vibrant. The world was more colorful then and a lot brighter, too. 

In the end, he’s denying himself the truth, because it has this bitter taste of ash at the back of his tongue and it’s very clearly despair and yearning, all good and bad merged into one little crump of feeling. That was what Gilbert has left, it’s the thing he was using to try and fill up the space in his heart that seems hollow now. The whole right side of his heart feels like it’s collapsed in on itself. Some mornings it’s the whole side of his body that is numb and won’t move and it scary as hell feeling the way your own body is not connected to your mind anymore. But it passes, Gilbert has learned to endure a long time ago and he can endure now, because it has to end eventually. He believes that his people – no this people with their paroles and demonstrations ( _Wir sind das Volk_ ) will find a way to make this right. (He wants to join their yelling, but he’s of a slightly different mind: _Wir sind ein Volk._

Only one more year. One more month. Another day, another hour.  
If he can make it down the street and get to work, he can get through the day and he can go back when he got there. He can do this. For only a little while longer. 

Time might be slower now, but this would pass.


	4. Chapter 4

**Verloren** _(lost)_

He woke up slightly dizzy and somewhat slower than usual. His mind was hyper-aware of the small sensations of the early morning, noting the softness of the sheets and the gentle sounds of the morning. While he enjoyed the comfort of such a quiet morning, he curled his fingers, the tips touching warm skin and suddenly, he was wide awake.

The alarm he felt about the person sharing his bed faded away almost immediately and was replaced by the feeling of a growing warmth, that threatened to burst open his chest. Except it didn't because the tiredness of his body weighted it down enough for Ludwig to keep entirely still and muster the second body. Pale skin was draped far too closely around the figure curled up at his side and seeking contact. Ludwig softly caressed the patch just underneath the others shoulder blade and tried to memorize features, he’d never forgotten. Truthfully, he never cared to admit, but he was still checking the realness of this body, the resemblance to someone almost lost.

There was little space which they weren't sharing, but for all the stiffness, Ludwig wouldn't have minded staying like this a good while longer, yet the other moved in signs of awareness and for a moment tensed up against him, which Ludwig wouldn't admit realizing; however he was whispering to him before he consciously decided to do so. “Gilbert.” – And the other settled back against him in only a heartbeat. All easy movements he melted back against Ludwig, his lips stretching in a quick smile against his shoulder.

When Gilbert pulled back and met his eyes, there was clearness in them like in freshly sharpened steal and something that must have been immense affection, for there was warmth in the other’s eyes that he seldom showed off so openly. Gilbert’s lips parted, and for a long moment he seemed to be unsure what say, wanting to say too much, maybe, or too little. Then he settled for words that really meant a lot more, but then again they were just re-learning each other and so much was different than before. “Hi” – and it was a breath against his lips, drawing a mirroring smile form Ludwig and a soft good morning kiss, that tasted somewhat stale but real enough to be comforting.

 

 **Sturheit** _(stubbornness)_

The last time Roderick had seen Gilbert was early that morning in a meeting of the German superior officers. Something hadn't seemed quite right, but he knew better than to point out the glassy eyes Gilbert tried to hide, or the tremor in his hands when he reached for something (quick so as to hide any weakness, steady enough in speed).

It was late noon when he went looking for him and found him on his knees in just any odd room. He had his arms wrapped around his middle, his head dropped to his chest, facing away from the door. The way his breath kept coming steady was obviously forced. “Prussia”, he called out and the other lifted his head. “Hau ab.”, hissed the pale figure as another shudder wrecked through his body. Roderick approached him and was just about to crouch down next to him, when Gilbert scooted away and – for the lack of a better word – growled at him.

Roderick jumped back, starring at the other, all sweaty skin and half-focused eyes. He tumbled backwards as if the movement only now startled what seem to be wounds – and how could he be hurt? What was the reason for this?

“Sei nicht albern”, Roderick said in a cold tone, though the patches of red – that only became visible if you knew what to look for on a pitch black uniform. Gilbert signed deeply, closing his eyes as he curled in on himself again, this time seated on the floor. When Roderick knelt in front of him and touched the back of his hand to the others forehead. “Ich brauche nur eine Minute-“ “Fieber. Du solltest eigentlich im Bett sein.” Gilbert signed again. „Just leave me be“, he said quietly, not fighting Roderick prying his hands from around his torso.

“Mhm. You’re nice and cold.” And if anything was a bad sign, it was Gilbert being willing to follow his lead. “Yes, and you’re burning up. Come on, up.” He circled an arm right under Gilbert's arms and the stood up together. With a bit of shuffling, Prussia was brought to lie on the sofa on the far side of the room. Roderick leaned over him, to ease him down and when he pulled back, Gilbert held him in a somewhat weak hug. He whispered something so quietly that Roderick didn't catch it. “What was that?”, he asked lowly. Gilbert shook his head almost unrecognizable and let him go. “’s fine.” Roderick came to sit at the edge of the sofa.

“Do you need anything?”

"They’re still my people. So it’s my pain, not his.”

Roderick’s eyes widened a fraction. “The camps-“

“Them too.”

“This will only get worse from here on out.” Gilbert covered his eyes with his arm, not responding for a minute. Roderick stood up. “I’ll come back in a bit, try to rest.” When he was at the door, Gilbert said quietly, obviously not meant for Roderick to hear, but this time he caught it: “I’m quite the fool. Always the caring fool.”

 

When he came back a few minutes later, with some water and bandages and – whatever he could find in their terribly under-stored first-aid-kit, it seemed as though Gilbert had dozed off, but when he knelt next to the sofa, ruby eyes shot open. Gilbert watched him unfocused while he started sorting the things on the ground. Roderich moved.

“Sit up.” – “I’m fine.”, Gilbert half interrupted and fended his hands of. Roderich gave him a look.

“I will be. Just leave me, it will be just-“

“No, it won't.", Roderich was just shy of shouting at him, his voice gaining a dangerous edge.

 

 **Verletzungen** _(wounds)_

When Ludwig was little, he and Gilbert used to live in a big mansion with many people cluttering around them. It was back in the times of kings and queens, when nations stayed close to their leaders, but remained as hidden as possible otherwise. Gilbert told him once it was for protection, though if that was the truth, he wasn't pretty keen to protect himself. Nowadays, Ludwig remembered the huge place and all the people only dimly like from another life. He wasn't even sure if everything had just seemed so big, because he used to be so much smaller.

Ludwig had wandered a lot through the halls. There was so much to explore, though he liked the library best. One time he remembered as clearly as if it had been only a few moments before. It was already late in the afternoon, and everyone seemed too busy to care about him that day. Not that the boy complained. All the maids acted like he was not only a child, but also completely unable to handle himself. In reality he was older than a fair lot of them. Gilbert used to say they spoiled him.

He hadn't seen Gilbert all day. It wasn't too odd considering they were at war, again. It was as if their fighting was going on constantly, but Gilbert shrugged when he mentioned it. However, it was over wasn't it? Shouldn't his brother be around? Nearly without realizing he had wandered to the albinos rooms. He must be busy. Ludwig didn't want to disturb him and decided to head for the library.

But when he walked past the room he heard a sharp gasp.

 

“Careful.”

“I am. It’s hard with him being hurt like that.”

 _Hurt?_ Ludwig pushed the door open and saw Gilbert leaning against a wall, being held up by Francis. He looked like he was in pain- in that moment Antonio slipped in his way of sight and made it impossible to look past him. “Hey there little Ludwig”, he said cheerful, but it seemed so faked. “We’re a little busy here, why don’t you go play a little.”

He heard movement behind Antonio.

“Gilbert.”, it sounded like a warning the way Francis said it. “He doesn't need to see you like this.”

“I know.”, the albino bit out. His voice sounded strained. Spain seemed to tense up a little, but he didn't move away. Ludwig felt something very cold grip his heart at the mere sound of his dear brother at the moment.

“Are you alright?”, Ludwig asked finally in a small voice. It took some more seconds till Gilbert answered. (-and he refused to think it was because Gilbert was really hurt-) “I’m fine. Don’t worry.”, he said, steadying his voice only barley.

Ludwig was young. But he could tell that was a lie. He nodded anyway. Slowly he walked away.


	5. Chapter 5

**Schutz** _(protection)_

“No harm will come to you.”

“If I obey your every word.” Gilbert echoed. Not mocked, he never did that now. His voice seemed far away for his on ears and he wondered if he was dying. Was this what it felt like? For if it was, he would have rather had the pain.

“You make it sound like I would ask the crudest things of you.” Ivan chuckled lightly, sitting in a chair opposite to Gilbert. There was no desk between them, space for barley three other steps. Gilbert found that in every other situation it would have been too little, he would have had to fight the urge to run and hide, but right now he felt numb.

“And if not?” he wondered absently. Ivan stood up and placed the glass he’d been holding on a table right next to the arrangement of chairs. Gilbert thought he would hit him – square on the face like he had before – but Ivan didn't. He just reduced the distance between them and with two fingers under the albinos chin forced him to look up.

“Your eyes are burning. But your every action is dull. Stop being so boring, it’s not why I saved you after all.”

“Why did you anyway?”

“So I could watch form the first row how you either learn to swallow your pride and swim or lose the fight and sink.” he said earnest. “Don’t get me wrong here. This is just a way to pass time. Why else would I save you? We've never been friends. Allies maybe, but that’s between Prussia and Russia, not between you and me.”

“Prussia is dead. You thought to learn to talk to me.” Russia grinned. There was such madness in his eyes, but Gilbert understood now.

 

“Ah. Who is this then?”

“Just Gilbert.”

“So. _Just Gilbert_ , will you obey Russia?”

“No.”

“Will you obey me?”

 _”Yes I will, Ivan”,_ he answered in only half-bad Russian. Ivan smiled.

 

 

 **Sieg** _(victory)_

Before him in the dim light stood his beloved nation with a smile on his face that wasn't a smirk, but an honest genuine smile. And what could be sweeter? When Frederick approached him, Gilbert looked at him intensely and his tongue darted out involuntary. Another moment later not so much as an inch separated them. Prussia was the first to move, when he grabbed the front of his coat.

“My king”, he whispered barely audible. “May I?” His eyes seemed to be glowing in the dark, but Fritz didn't have much chance to admire them, when he answered bodily instead of verbally. Even though he indicated the kiss, Prussia took fast control of it and made deft work of his clothes. He seemed so into it that his king’s hand took him by surprise. Gilbert gasped into the kiss.

Turned out Gilbert liked to be dominated pretty much.

 

 

 **Drei Wörter** _(three words)_

He braced his hands against the headboard of their bed and gasped sharply when Ludwig’s moves came to a halt. The muscles in his back tensed and when Ludwig reached out to touch the bow of an elegant spine with his pointer and middle finger, he could feel the albino shudder. When Gilbert tried to push back Ludwig caught his frame easily with both of his hands back on the others hips.

Gilbert groaned, but remained motionless. Ludwig gave his right hip a warning squeeze before moving his hand back upwards again. He followed the fine lines of muscles and bones around the shoulders, then back down. Though vocal in everything he had done before to the other his voice seemed to fail him now.

“Don’t”, Gilbert gasped and the word broke halfway through the syllable. Ludwig leaned forward and pressed a kiss between his shoulder blades. It made the other give a sharp sound. “Stop it. Don’t be-“ _\- so damn gentle._

Ludwig wrapped his right arm around the albino’s waist as he covered his whole body with his on. He buried his nose in the others hair and rested his lips right behind the shell of his ear. Gilbert trembled all over.

 

“I love you", he whispered and realized how his lover’s hands gripped the headboard tighter. The other body tensed against him his muscles almost painfully tight when Ludwig spread his fingers wide right over his stomach.

“Don’t”, Gilbert whispered harshly back, tried to move from the embrace and couldn't. “Just- Don’t.”

“I love you”, he whispered again and thought: “ _\- and I will tell you however often you care to hear it. Till you believe. Till you can say it back._ ”

“ _Ludwig_ ”, Gilbert warned breathlessly. “Damnit move already.” he bit out. “I can’t-“, whatever he wanted to say was lost in a sharp yelp when Ludwig moved his hips forward. Strong and deep, but slow. Oh so very slow. “Shit.”, Gilbert cursed and it turned into a deliciously long drawn moan.

 

“Please... Oh Gott, West. _Bitte._ ”

Ludwig shushed him gently and warped an arm around his body to pull him back against his own and made him sit up against him. Gilbert keened high-pitched and breathlessly.

“Sht. I’ve got you.” Gilbert twisted his upper body and stretched in a way that couldn't be comfortable, but the way he caught his lips was perfect. He kissed him long and deep and - honest in his actions in every way he couldn't be in his words.

 

 

 **Erinnerung** _(memory)_

Gilbert was his first memory.

That was back in the time when Prussia’s name had to be enough for both of them for a little while. It is funny how sometimes the tables turn to create the exact opposite situation. But even with Gilbert tumbling down from his high throne – no stepping down because of him – and the situations turning out to be never in his favor anymore, because he loses his land, his people, and his heart at all the wrong moments… he was always safe in his little brother’s orbit.

Even if the only thing binding them was the payment of a debt, Gilbert wouldn't need to worry in Ludwig’s case. He’d only ever been kind to Ludwig, kind to a child that didn't know what kindness meant at all. Well, this Prussian way of kindness was naturally a little rough and frayed around the edges, but Ludwig didn't mind all that much. (He didn't know any better at first, didn't care to have anything else later.)

So, Gilbert was quiet safe under Ludwig’s name and every protection he could give through it. That meant that Prussia, even if per say eradicated from the map, would fade, would die, Gilbert needn't fear. (Because Ludwig would guard him as Gilbert had once done for little Germany.)

However, with all the life force the brothers preserved between them both, there was nothing they could do about the Allies decision to separate them.

 

Gilbert was his first memory.

Ludwig was determined, however, to also make him his last: to hold onto that dearest of all companions, the brotherhood, the love and the laughter between them and the moment that they might be more and nothing and everything; till the earth might dive into the sun and their bodies would evaporate and cluster apart as they once a million years before found their form through a thousand tiny molecules that would be stardust once again.

 

 

 **Freundschaft** _(friendship)_

Gilbert had known this day would come from the first time he laid eyes on his prince, his king. Yet it seemed that time had passed by to quickly and the death of his beloved Fritz ripped a hole into his heart that he nursed quietly. When the funeral was over, the new king appointed, all ceremonies done, Gilbert slipped away into the quietness of his rooms.

He wouldn't cry or scream, he’d just sit and stare at the wall for hours without end. This would go on for weeks, until help he didn't know he needed came from an unexpected place. There was always another war to fight, which meant he’d always pass by the other nations and these days he hated it. He would have loved to hide away and suffer his pain, but he could hardly flee the room every time Francis or Roderich – or heaven forbid _Ivan_ – entered the room.

 

So when the former was invited along to a meeting between their respective kings, Gilbert stood there dutifully. (Later he might have realized the error in thinking that Francis wouldn't notice the lack of banter and teasing.) When they took a break, Gilbert had just been walking down the hallway when Francis called out to him. He’d stop and tried to look bored with the other’s presence, but right in the moment when he came close enough to touch, Francis grabbed his wrist, leading him to a silent corner and pulling him into a hug.

“I’m sorry you hurt”, he said to the side of his head. “I know you don’t believe me now, but it’ll pass. I won’t say it’ll go away, because it won’t, but it’ll hurt less and become almost bearable in a little while.” Gilbert could feel himself shudder and Francis held him tighter.

“I won’t think any less of you if you admit your pain.” When they let go of each other, Gilbert stared at the floor, willing his vision to clear. “ _Merci_ ”, he whispered when Francis let their shoulders brush on his way out, the word heavy on his tongue. “Always, my friend.”

 

 **Warnung** _(warning)_

Gilbert would have flinched, but there was no muscle in his body left that would obey him. So instead he held his breath and backed against the wall, when Ivan leaned in close enough for their cheeks to touch. “You tried to warn me, [my little snow rabbit]”, he said in a low voice. “Back in 1933, you tried to tell me. Only I didn't get any of the hints you were dropping.”

A shuttering breath left Gilbert’s lungs and he croaked: “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” At least he tried. His words were barely vowels, cracking and turning to dust on his tongue. Ivan pulled back enough to look at him. Whatever warmth had been left in his eyes evaporated into thin air. “Fool. You still care more about your brother than about the whole rest of us together.” There was venom in his voice. Something he had mastered to shield behind his neutral mask so carefully, that Gilbert wouldn't have though it was possible for Ivan to sound like that.

A beat passed, then another. “I’ll try to save your life, the same way you saved mine. Can’t do much about your lands, though,” and like an afterthought. “Prussia.” When he wandered off, Gilbert had long since understood that this war was over. It was early February of the year 1945 then, but by March he could hardly bear it anymore. He was falling apart at the seams. (By late summer, he was something else altogether.)

***

It didn't matter whether he’d just eaten or starved himself for weeks, Gilbert was always hungry, always tired, always in pain.

“Come, Gilbert.” It was Ivan who offered his hand, offered his help. Only him, all the other’s licking their own wounds, busy hating him for what he’d done. (Except he hadn't done anything at all.) And Gilbert had not bothered to admit his feeling to himself since the early thirties and it had been a decade (only a decade – it felt like a lifetime), but he went like a marionette to Ivan’s whim. (And funnily enough Ivan didn't ask anything of him except his loyalty. And who else was left to be loyal to?)

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just letting everybody who might still keep a eye on this know: This is the final chapter I'll be writing. I've been saying in the past that I'm done with the Hetalia fandom because of various reasons, but I seemed to keep coming back. I still have this one bigger draft on my computer (though it's about the country of Ireland which does as of right now while I'm writing this not exist in canon Hetalia) and I might finish that in some time, but I'll post that one seperately if I ever do.
> 
> Off to new challenges. Enjoy these little drabbles for now. :)
> 
> EDIT: Ups, there was a draft hiding between the other chapters. Posted that one too now. So there you go. Two last chapters instead of one.


End file.
